OF THE SAME SCRAP AND BARLEY

Chapter Four – On Thin Ice
Words: 8710

A storm was stirring up over the plains. A towering cloud of dust was on the horizon, blotting out what little sunlight there was and moving rapidly towards them. The trio of one Jotun masquerading as an Asgardian, one wizard locked in an Asgardian body and one human scientist would have had to move regardless of what decision they'd come to.

They walked up the hill, back to the ship they had arrived in, and Loki activated it to take them up into the air and away from the storm. Harry loosened his cape and offered it to Jane to bundle her up in, along with the blanket that she'd used before. She was shivering and what little extra warmth the torn, dirty fabric could provide was welcome.

"Thank you," she said as she bundled up in it, pulling it around her jacket and up over her ears.

"You're welcome," he replied, sitting down next to her, close but without touching. By the steering contraption Loki stood, hair blowing in the wind, eyes on the approaching horizon. He had the difficult task of bringing them back to Earth, and he had to do so without going through Asgard as both he and Harry risked imprisonment should the enter the realm of the gods, Loki for his status as escaped prisoner, and Harry because Thor had committed treason, and then as it was discovered, because he had usurped the body of the crown prince. They had agreed to not use the passage they had arrived by, with Loki reassuring that he would be able to bring them to Midgard, even as he'd added silently that they would need unfathomable luck for it to happen.

Harry allowed his gaze to wander further, looking out across the world they were flying over. It was truly a miserable place, devoid of life, forsaken and dead. He wondered if it had always been like that, if it had been so when the dark elves lived on it, or if it had been destroyed at the same time as most of their race.

Inevitably his eyes found Mjolnir. The hammer lay where he'd first seen it, discarded at the bottom of the ship, on the opposite side of where he was sitting. He had no idea what he'd done wrong while trying to lift it. He couldn't begin to guess what quality he lacked. He wanted to be a good man, a great man, a man willing to do everything for others. But perhaps wanting wasn't enough. He had to be it, and apparently he had yet to achieve that status. He would keep it in mind and try to be better, to be all that he could be.

"It's strange that you can't pick it up," Jane commented softly, having seen what he was looking at. Harry tore his eyes away from the weapon to face her. "If it weren't for the fact that you can't, I might have not believed that you're not him. You speak a bit differently, I suppose, and you were shooting all of those lights from I don't know where, animating stone and whatever else you did. Despite all of that, there's something about you that does make me think about Thor."

"Perhaps the face?" Harry joked weakly.

She answered with a bleak smile. "It might be part of it." She reached out and touched his hand, moving it from under the cape, but he wasn't ready for it and flinched minutely. The movement was too small for her to notice so she didn't take her hand away. He was glad for it. Her fingers were warm and soft against the top of his hand.

"You shouldn't feel bad about not being able to pick it up," Jane told him.

"Why not? We're supposed to be alike, me and Thor, share souls or something like that. Why can't I be as good as him? Why can't I be worthy?"

"Thor's not perfect. When I first met him he'd been sent to earth to learn a lesson. He couldn't lift the hammer."

"He couldn't?"

"No, it wouldn't budge for him any more than for anyone else. He had to find himself again, had to understand what it meant to be worthy."

"Oh."

"You can learn that too, I think. You're young still, and in a strange place. If you're with us for any length of time, you might be able to pick it up before you go home. Don't give up."

The corner of his mouth rose as warmth filled his chest. "Thank you." It was nice to have someone believe in him, even if he might not deserve it. It was also nice to hear someone believe that he would go home, that everything would turn out okay. "Thank you for more than that, for not hating me after what I've done."

"It's okay. I'm not happy about it and I would lie if I said I didn't hate this situation, but I don't feel myself hating you. When this is over, I'll do what I can to help you fix it."

"I would expect nothing less. You're not the type to sit idly by, are you?"

"Not if I can help it." She pulled her hand back inside the cocoon and looked down at her lap. "Do you think he's okay, wherever he is?" she asked quietly, and Harry didn't have to ask who he was.

"Yes," he answered, because he did think so, and because thinking otherwise was not something he wanted to do. "If he's stuck where we met, he might be bored, but I have no reason to think that he wouldn't be okay, and if he went through to my world my friends will take care of him."

"What is your world like?"

"I don't really know your frame of reference so I wouldn't dare to start comparing without knowing a bit more first. You said that you were human, not Asgardian, and with name like yours I'll believe it. All I know about this world is based on a few observations on the Aesir."

"Oh." She seemed disappointed and Harry was reminded of Hermione. Jane shared some traits with his friend, their hair and eye colour were what he first had noticed, and now as he talked with her: curiosity. And then there was the profession she'd mentioned.

"You said you were a physicist of some sort?"

"An astrophysicist, yes." When he looked at her without understanding, she elaborated. "I deal with how physics works in space, though that is only the very basics of it. Before I knew there were other realms, I still believed in their existence, still believed that energy could be used to open bridges and allow matter to pass through."

"Then how do you feel about learning that there are parallel worlds too?"

"It's not as shocking as it could have been, not after having seen the aliens on TV and having seen Asgard with my own eyes. I don't think I've fully grasped it yet, though."

"Television? That's our first common reference. Which just… It means that where I come from and here aren't too far apart in time. Two wizards born the same year who try to crossover at the same time might not have counterparts who lived at the same time. When and where you end up, it's strange."

"Tied to relative age," Loki added in. He seemed to have settled on a course for the ship and was now free to engage in the conversation.

"Yes. You certainly seem to know a lot about my situation," Harry accused.

"As I said, I have heard of it."

"How?"

The man stayed stubbornly silent, looking away.

"Fine, be unhelpful," Harry muttered.

"You're sixteen years old?" Jane asked him as Loki made it clear that he would say no more. "Shouldn't you be in school, not than travelling to other universes?"

"I am in school," Harry told her, "just not what I'd call a normal school. It's a school for magic."

"A school for magic? That sounds amazing."

"It is, I love it, but it's not perfect. If everything was perfect I would never have ended up here."

"What's wrong?"

"People," he said bitterly. "It doesn't matter where people are from, they're all the same. Certain people will always seek power and won't care how they get it, and the masses will stand by and do nothing. It's no different among wizards and witches. The only thing that sets us apart from 'normal' people is that magic allows you to do some really horrible things." He didn't want to talk about it. Thinking about Voldemort made his mood darken, and as if thoughts of the dark wizard had summoned him, Harry felt a stab of pain somewhere inside, the same pain as the ache of his scar. Jane sensed his mood and didn't pry.

"We're from different versions of the same realm, right?"

"I believe so."

"Where and when are you from? Your name could be used in most of the western world so that doesn't help me much, and language is strange with Asgardians so English is no giveaway. Television has been around for a while and will be for years to come, I suspect, even if it tells me that you weren't born in the eighteen hundreds."

"When I left… home… it was the first of March nineteen-ninety-seven. And I was in Scotland."

"Depending on how alike our universes are, you'll have missed a bit then. Here it's November and the year is twenty-thirteen, and in a sense you were born the year before me, if I'm counting right. That's weird."

"Not any weirder than people being over a thousand years old," Harry commented as he took in the new information.

"You have a point there."

Their conversation was cut short. "Brace yourselves," the Trickster cautioned as he steered the ship towards a cliff face. Had Harry not had previous experience with magic and a vague memory of going through a similar place to reach the desert world they were in, he would have been more worried. Jane had no such reservations.

"There's no opening!" she yelled and indeed there didn't seem to be one. They were fast approaching solid, dark rock. It was unforgiving, towering high, high above them, casting a deep shadow. It looked like crystal: sharp, jagged, hard. At the speed they were going, the impact would without a doubt wreck their vessel, sending them hurtling down onto the flats far below.

"Loki," Harry said warningly. He could guess at what was happening, but he'd rather not risk it.

"Don't trust your eyes," Loki told them and increased the speed further.

"Like Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," the wizard convinced himself, trying to place a sliver of trust in the unstable man who had control of the ship. Even as he told himself not to worry, he pulled Jane close to protect her with his own body should something go wrong.

The mountain face came up and… they passed through as if it were only thick black smoke and not solid rock, though the fact that some small protruding decoration at the side of the ship was wrenched off told another story. Still, they were no worse for wear as they came through the hidden opening, but that was when their real problems began. The ship tipped forward, falling nose first straight down and increasing in velocity so that Harry and Jane were thrown towards the stern.

"Loki!" Harry cried again, the woman clinging to him in fright as he grasped the railing to stop their further descent.

The dark haired man grinned manically, hanging on to the rudder, and did not reply. The hurtled downwards still, wind rushing by them, the sound of the passing air rising to a roar that drowned out everything else. When Harry feared that Loki had indeed lost control over what was happening and that this would be where it all ended, they levelled out and the tunnel-like structure they were travelling through came to an end. The rushing air turned freezing, and torrents of snow assaulted them.

"Welcome to Jotunheim," Loki said sarcastically.

- Of the Same Scrap and Barley –

"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, good day to you."

After the question about Harry's appearance had been brought up, they had moved quickly. Thor had been marched through many corridors where he craned his head left and right over and over, so much so that he'd gotten a crick in his neck, trying to take in everything there was to see. Heavy, embroidered tapestries competed with large paintings in gilded frames on every wall. The subjects of the paintings were strange-looking humans that moved and gossiped as they went. They seemed to be alive, some called out greetings and others moved from frame to frame following them before getting distracted by something else. There were suits of armour stood by archways and some of them turned their metal helmets, following them with their non-existent eyes. The walls were of heavy grey stone, the flagstones on the floor of the same material. Through large gilded windows he saw a landscape that reminded him a bit of home: snow-capped mountains, winter-bare trees and a dark lake.

They had passed a couple of transparent grey beings, spirits that had him on edge, ready to fight them however he could. Ron had helpfully informed him that they were harmless and wished no one in the school any harm. He was inclined not to believe Ron as one of the ghosts that passed had silvery blood all over his front and carried a rapier by his side.

He hadn't been allowed to stop and look at anything for long but he understood why, so he'd kept in step with his guides and sacrificed his neck to try and take it all in. Their march had ended in by an alcove where an ugly statue was placed. The young witch had said some nonsensical word and the statue had moved, allowing them to walk up a sharply-turning staircase. They had ended up in a large circular room, filled with a lot of fragile looking and shiny objects, as well as an abundance of books, strange objects on small tables with spidery legs and portraits of elderly-looking people on the walls.

A man had taken a seat behind a desk as they entered and it didn't take long for Thor to conclude that the man was the wizard known as Professor Dumbledore. He was old and looked it, with a silver-white beard that was long enough to be tucked into his belt. Yet he held himself with great poise, displaying a silent power that the son of Odin could not deny. He understood why Harry's friends would turn to this man for advice. He was, however, slightly amused, or perhaps bemused would be the better word, at the man's choice of apparel. Robes seemed to be what these human magic users wore, but unlike the demure black the youths were wearing, the older man sported bright purple attire, accented in a frivolous pattern of silver and crimson.

"Sir," Hermione began after the man had wished them welcome.

"Have a seat," the professor told them kindly, yet in a tone Thor knew was a command. They followed the order and sat down in three chairs that moved by themselves to accommodate them. It was all very odd. Thor had never seen magic like this before; he knew that if the situation wasn't so dire he'd be very eager to explore this new world. He'd always been curious and excited to find new challenges.

"Tea?" the man asked.

"Sir," Hermione said, more urgently this time, a somewhat chiding timber making its way into her voice, and Dumbledore looked at her, seeing her distress.

"It's one of those times, is it? Very well."

He leaned his elbows on the table and steepled long fingers together. Thor saw that one hand was blackened; it looked as if it had been burnt in a fire, sooty and brittle. It looked bad, very bad. He'd never been interested in magic himself, having left that for Loki, but he knew that Dumbledore's had was the result of destructive forces at work.

"Speak, then, and I shall endeavour to assist you as best as I can."

Thor decided that he might as well speak, as not introducing himself felt like a breach of etiquette. "I am not Harry Potter," he said calmly. He could sense his companions' horror at his candour, yet he pressed on. "I am Thor Odinson of Asgard. I met with Harry in a place I have no name for. He explained to me that he had tried to reach through to me, as I am almost certainly his soul-correlate, simply to see my memories. He failed. As we tried to return to our proper places, I am afraid I miscalculated. Harry said that he felt a connection between us. I believed it might be used. When we connected physically I felt a charge of lightning that I am certain came from my hammer, Mjolnir. What next I remember is waking up in Harry's body, where Ron and Hermione shared with me a little of what they know, and I did the same. They do not know of any solution, and thus we are in need of assistance. I need to return as my home is in grave danger and Harry should be returned too."

"I see," Dumbledore said, sounding at once calm and weary. He leaned back in his chair, holding the blackened hand with the healthy one. He looked speculatively at Thor over the pair of spectacles that sat on his long, crooked nose; then his eyes turned to the side. The Asgardian followed his gaze to a perch behind him. He hadn't noticed it previously since there was so much else to see in the room, but now he observed a large, crimson bird with golden plumage that sat on a perch there. It met Thor's eyes with small, pearly black ones. There was intelligence in those eyes. Not human, yet as potent or even more so. He could feel it assessing him, and that must have been why the old wizard had turned to it. The bird let out a long melodious thrill that sent his spirit soaring, filling him with hope and energy. His back straightened without him consciously willing it, and the frown that had settled over his brow loosened.

"What magic is that?"

"Phoenix song," the professor replied. "A power of good in this world that resonates with those who are pure of heart. Thank you, Fawkes," The phoenix let out another low trill. "This is very good, and one thing off my mind. Welcome to Hogwarts, Mr. Odinson. I hope you'll enjoy your stay with us for as long as it lasts."

Thor nodded his thanks, understanding that he'd been assessed and had passed the test, and for now he would not be met with hostility despite his intrusion.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley: if you would tell me what happened right from the very start, and do not spare any details, please."

The story was told, Hermione and Ron giving the Headmaster all the details that Harry had given Thor when they had spoken, confirming that his correlate hadn't left anything out. It made Thor think better of Harry then he had before. He'd been reluctant as the wizard had dragged him into this misfortune, but for each thing he learned he gained an understanding that spoke in favour of the young man. It gave him hope that Harry would be able step up and take Thor's place for as long as he was gone; that the wizard would do his best to save his world. If need be, Thor certainly would do his best to save this one.

Thor had been asked to give his own side of the story, which he did willingly and he included the observation he had made about Harry's outwards appearance when they met in the place in-between.

"I will need to look at the research you three have all done this year," Dumbledore said about two hours later. Tea had been served, along with small sandwiches, the warm beverage and sustaining comforting them as the sorry tale was laid bare.

"Of course, sir," Hermione said. "I'll give you everything I- we have."

"Thank you, Miss Granger."

"Do you have an idea of how long it will take to send me back?" Thor asked.

"I could give a guess. Normally my guesses are good, but as of yet I know too little of the magic that went into this, even though Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger's story was very informative. I am also a very busy man, Mr. Odinson. I am the head of this school; I am responsible for each and every student residing within these walls and I am responsible for the professors that teach here. I also lead the fight against Voldemort. Returning you and Harry both to your homes, will be something I prioritize, as the sooner it happens, the better it will be for all parties involved, but I dare not promise anything. Certainly it will not be done before the end of this school year, should we not be so very lucky as to stumble over the answer."

The assessment was reasonable and disheartening. "If there is anything I can do to assist in the struggle your people face or in the quest of returning Harry, I will be at your disposal."

"I don't doubt it and I thank you for your offer, but for now the best you can do is to let these two fine young people," he gestured with the damaged hand to Ron and Hermione, "help acclimate you to Hogwarts, so that you can take Harry's place. It must not be known that he is gone. I fear that Voldemort would be emboldened should he hear of Harry's disappearance. He would undoubtedly seek to use you. You are human now, and more vulnerable than you are accustomed to. I also fear how the public would react should the information become widely known. This is not the time for the world to know that a French theory of soul correlates that was discarded at the turn of the last century was on its way to discovering something with a huge field of potential."

Thor nodded his assent, "If you think that is the best course of action I will defer to your judgement."

Dumbledore nodded in turn. "Thank you. Now, I have something else to tell the three of you, something that will empathize how very important it is that Harry returns. Mr. Weasley, Miss Granger, had Harry informed you of what we had been doing during our meetings over the past year?"

"He was allowed to tell us, was he not?" Hermione asked anxiously.

"He had my explicit permission to share what we did with you."

"He told us about looking at memories of You-Know-Who."

"And he told you of the conversation between young Tom Riddle and Professor Slughorn?"

"He did," Ron answered.

"Then you know what Horcruxes are and that Lord Voldemort has several."

The two youths twitched and the Asgardian frowned at their odd behaviour. "Yes, sir," they chorused.

Thor was not aware of what these Horcruxes were and said as much.

"When we kill," Dumbledore said, peering at him searchingly, knowingly, "our souls can take damage. By the use of dark magic, witches and wizards can use this damage to split the soul and remove a piece of it. By placing a piece of their soul in an object, they create a Horcrux. The Horcrux makes them effectively immortal. It is not like the longevity of your people. When their body is destroyed, the Horcrux acts as an anchor, holding the main part of the soul to the plane of the living. This is what Lord Voldemort did, and in his fear of death he did it several times. I suspect a number, which is what I wished to confirm with the memory I asked Harry to obtain, though I now understand why he did not put as much effort into it as I had asked," he gave both the Gryffindor prefects a chiding look.

"We're sorry," Hermione said contritely.

"I do not doubt it."

"How is Voldemort killed?" Thor asked, not willing to let Harry's friends stew in misery. It accomplished nothing. They were right to regret what they had done, but the result of their mistake was punishment enough. He also noted curiously that the two people by his side twitched again. He'd have to ask why, later.

"The Horcruxes must be destroyed, and once they are no more, Voldemort will be as mortal as any other man." Dumbledore let out a long sigh. "This is, in part, why we need Harry back. What you told me of Harry's appearance when you met him, Mr. Odinson, tells me that my worst suspicion is true."

Hermione gasped, suddenly, covering her mouth with her hands. "Oh, no, not Harry..! No..!"

"I see that you understand, Miss Granger."

"He couldn't be. He can't be. It-"

"If only it were so."

Thor understood then too. He hadn't met just Harry, he'd met Harry and a small piece of Lord Voldemort, melded together seamlessly. "How much has it influenced him?" he asked.

Ron too appeared to have understood. He was very pale and was gripping the arms of his chair tightly, knuckles turning as white as his cheeks.

Dumbledore shook his head. "It created a connection between them; it gave Harry an ability to speak with snakes, an ability he shares with Voldemort. The connection has brought with it much pain, but I have no reason to believe that the Horcrux has influenced Harry in any way. My guess is that it is very small, accidental as it is. Voldemort never intended to place a part of his soul in Harry the night he killed his parents. No, it was a mistake."

"But," Hermione whispered, "how will you get the Horcrux out of him? It can't be easy, or you would have done it already." Her eyes were getting shiny.

"This is why learning what Harry looked like in that place pains me so. Harry and Lord Voldemort are intimately connected, and it is through more than the Horcrux. By taking Harry's blood to resurrect himself, Lord Voldemort bound them tighter together. I am afraid that-" he didn't continue. The old headmaster rose from his chair and paced around the room.

"Sir, please," the witch begged, "what is it? What must happen?"

"It's only a theory, of course," the brightly robed wizard commented, "but I think the only way for the Horcrux in Harry to be destroyed is for Voldemort to kill him."

"No!" the brown haired teen jumped up. "No, that can't be the only way!"

Thor rose too. "I agree; there are always other options, needlessly killing young Harry on the supposition that there is no other solution is a desperate man's solution."

"And with that one statement you have described my situation. You must understand that-"

There was a knock on the door, and the professor stopped. "Ah, I see we must cut this meeting short."

– Of the Same Scrap and Barley –

Jotunheim was as desolate and miserable as Svartalfheim before it. Everything was just a different tint. The ice covered landscape was deep blue, grey and white where the desert of the previous realm had been the colours of a swamp. But the new surroundings were just as awful, or worse.

The cold was blatant. Jane had warmed up before, swept in Thor's cloak. Now she was shivering violently and all the warming charms and fire spells Harry had tried fizzled out uselessly in contact with the chilling wind. He felt the cold acutely himself. His arms were bare and while the snow that had settled on them had melted off in the beginning, it was now sticking and covering him up. Brushing it away was futile as more soon took its place. His long hair and beard were covered in the white stuff too.

Loki seemed completely unbothered by the weather, and when Harry had commented on it, Loki's face had turned dark, frighteningly so, and he had pressed out through clenched teeth that this was the Realm to which he was born. The cold wouldn't bother him. He had refused to elaborate.

When Jane's lips turned blue and her shivers began to die down, Harry got very worried for her. He brushed away the snow from his arms and wrapped them around her, rubbing at her own limbs to make friction and create warmth. He struggled to find a balance between speed to create heat and not being too rough since he could easily hurt her.

"She can't take much more of this!" he told Loki, shouting to be heard over the howling wind. "When will we be able to leave?"

"Soon!" Harry resolutely pretended that he didn't hear the second bit: "If all goes well."

He tucked the woman's head under his chin and mumbled reassurances that she was most likely deaf to. It didn't matter; they were more for himself at any rate. Never before had he experienced such bad weather. He'd played Quidditch in storms both warm and cold, but even the cold of the Scottish Highlands could not compare to the freezing temperatures of the Ice Realm.

Loki steered the ship down a fissure in the glacier, the walls of ice on either side giving them some shelter from the polar winds and torrents of snow. The respite from the storm was welcome; the darkness that reigned there, not as much.

"How is she?" the man asked, showing unexpected concern.

"She's bad."

"'m f-f-fine," she mumbled quietly, teeth clattering. And Harry let out a shaky sigh; he'd thought that she'd lost consciousness. It was good to know that that wasn't the case.

"How much further before we can move to a different realm?"

"As I said, not much farther. I've not been through here many times, yet should my memory serve me, the entrance to the passage should be some ways in the direction of this fissure. We'll be able to stay down here until we're but a stone's throw away."

The wizard shook his head. "Something tells me that when you people say a stone's throw you mean something different than what I'm used to."

"That may be so; your kind is pathetically weak."

Harry didn't respond to that .There was no use. He recognized bigotry when he heard it and knew how futile it was to discuss it. It wasn't as if Loki would change his view if Harry argued in favour of humans. It didn't work back home with purebloods discriminating against muggleborns, and it wouldn't work with a being even older and more set in his ways.

They journey continued in silence, Harry and Jane miserable in the cold, she far more so than he. The wizard fantasised about the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room. It would blaze high, orange and warm. He could curl up in an armchair with a conjured blanket strapped to a warming charm and he could ask Dobby for a steaming cuppa. He hoped Jane was doing as well as she was claiming. That she her shivering was subsiding wasn't a good sign for all he knew of hypothermia.

Too soon for anyone's comfort Loki steered the ship up and out of the broad canyon in the ice. During their short absence the storm hadn't abated any; it roared as ferociously as ever before, threatening to overturn the ship as it rose over the edge of the glacial crevasse. They moved towards a set of jagged mountain spikes, too sharp and steep to allow any snow to linger upon the rocky surface.

"The pathway is by the base of those mountains!"

"And where on earth will it take us?" They were shouting again.

"Somewhere in the uninhabited north!"

They approached the mountains swiftly and Harry couldn't wait for it to be over with; even if they ended up close to the North Pole on earth, the weather couldn't be any worse there than it was on Jotunheim. but, he knew better than to hope for the best, and his pessimism proved itself to be prophetic. Ahead of them a herd of large, spiked creatures were making their way through the meter-thick snow, lumbering by the foot of the nearest mountain. It appeared as if they were heading into a cave. Loki slowed the ship down, allowing its engines to hold them in place.

"What's wrong?" Harry called in question.

"We have to go through there!"

"So?"

The escaped prisoner glared at him. "I have faced such creatures before, and they are ferocious enemies! We will never make it through!"

"We have to!" Jane was limp in his arms, and he was certain that she had lost consciousness now. He felt small puffs of air against his throat still, so he knew that she wasn't dead, but it couldn't be long before the cold claimed her. Desperately he tried for a warming charm again and felt utter helplessness settle over him as it did nothing.

"We cannot fight them and win!"

"Then we don't." He didn't shout the words. He removed his arms around Jane and placed her on the bottom of the ship gently, the sides of it did keep some of the wind away and if he was to act, he had to let go of her.

"What?" Loki said with the same volume, which was all that was needed for Harry had moved to the rear.

"There must be a way to trick them."

Twin snow-covered eyebrows rose on the Trickster's pale forehead. "I see. Yes, I think that should be possible."

"You've made yourself invisible before; can you extend it to the ship and all three of us?"

"Yes."

"Then we try to sneak by them. This weather should help."

"It is risky. I know little about those beasts; they could have good hearing and a strong sense of smell. They have evolved for life in this realm, so the weather might not help at all."

"Do you have a better idea?"

He didn't, so the plan was initiated. Harry stood, ready to move should it be necessary, leaving Jane on the floor where he had placed her. Loki put his spell to work and the ship shimmered out of existence, along with their own bodies. It was odd, feeling the deck under his feet yet seeing the ground far below, and it wasn't made better when they started moving, but Harry had experienced a similar thing before when the Order moved him to Grimmauld Place for the first time. They moved slowly, inching closer to the creatures, yet keeping fairly high above them. That was a strategy they could only use part of the way. The entrance to the pathway was low and as they moved close enough to see it properly, the next obstacle became evident. Fitting through over the heads of the beasts was impossible. They slowed to a stop and Harry wondered how they would discuss what to do next, since speaking so close to the creatures would draw attention. The huge monsters (although they were animals, monsters seemed an appropriate term: for one, they would fit right into The Monster Book of Monsters and for two, their spikes, hard, leathery skin, bulging backs and thick tails placed them well within the 'monster' category of any layman) were moving slowly, ambling inside the cave.

The issue of communication was solved as Loki directed the ship upwards and away. As soon as he deemed it a safe distance Harry spoke in an as loud a whisper as he dared. "I hadn't counted on that."

"I thought not."

"I came up with the first part of the plan; do you have anything to contribute?" Harry had thought that plans that required stealth, that required methods other than brawling would be Loki's strong suit, but so far he'd been disappointed.

"I think bait will suffice."

"What?"

For a second time, Harry was thrown overboard.

– Of the Same Scrap and Barley –

Thor, Ron and Hermione were back in the room Thor had woken up in. Dumbledore had told them no more, dismissing them from his office when a man completely dressed in black had come in. The man had sneered, seeing them, glaring especially harshly at Thor. He'd been informed on the way back to the room that the man was Professor Snape and that he had a grudge against Harry. Thor could well believe it, such animosity as he'd seen in that man would have to be deep set.

That they had been dismissed had left a sour taste in his mouth. It was a rare experience for him, something only his father ever put him through and only in those times that they had been at odds. It was something which Thor never found pleasant. The urgency he had about returning also made the event less than desirable. Ron and Hermione shared his distaste, and on the way back they discussed what it might have been Dumbledore hadn't told them as well as why Snape had come in. Hermione had said that he looked tired. Ron had shot back that he'd not seen any difference; Snape was always ugly with dark circles under his eyes. She'd pressed on, saying that he might have come to report on You-Know-Who (though Thor did not know who) and that because of Harry's displacement the Dark Lord might have done something. Ron had grumbled something and nodded. Thor was grateful that they had agreed; the argument he'd witnessed soon after his arrival had told him that the two could get into spectacular rows or even just indulge in banter of a kind that no one wanted to be an audience too for long.

Yet they had proven why Harry had chosen them as his companions by getting over it and taking care the matter at hand: an education in acting like the boy whose skin he was wearing.

"First off, you have to use magic," Ron said.

"Magic," he repeated. It was impossible for him to say the word without derision. He had not hated it when he was a boy, maybe he had never truly hated it, but distaste and a sense of unworthiness attached themselves to the concept. Loki's tricks had never been regarded well in Asgard. It was dishonourable to use such measures when honourable battle was to be had. In recent years his brother had used his talents for ill, rather than the relatively harmless tricks of old. That he would fall into a world where everything was dependant on magic was ill-fitting. He had to rethink it if he were to survive with any dignity retained. His mother (thinking about her left a sense of loss, and incredulity) had been a magic user, his father was one too. He'd never disrespected them for that, nor had any other citizen of Asgard. Why Loki would be so scorned for something he excelled at was unclear.

"Yes, magic," the boy told him sternly. For each moment that passed the awe he'd displayed when hearing Thor's name was diminishing. "We use it, Harry uses it. If you're to pretend that you're him, you'll have to do it too."

"Fine," he reluctantly agreed. "What do I do?"

"Let's see if Harry's wand will work for you," Hermione said. The girl was sitting primly at the edge of a chair, watching him expectantly. "It should be in your pocket," she nudged when he stood there like a fool.

"Of course." He located the rod of wood, holding it awkwardly. That this thin, fragile thing could be an efficient weapon or tool seemed ludicrous, but he'd seen the Headmaster brandish his wand to control the furniture in his office, so he knew it to be so.

"Do you feel anything?" Ron asked.

"No." He wasn't feeling anything. It was a stick like any other in his hand, polished and smooth from a lot of gripping, yet unremarkable.

"Let's see you try out a spell," the witch said calculatingly. "Repeat after me: Wingardium Leviosa."

"Really?" the boy groaned.

"It's a good first spell to try."

"Why not lumos, it's easier."

She pursed her lips. "Fine."

"Alright, mate, you move the tip of the wand in a loop and say the word."

Thor did nothing.

"Oh for Christ's sake," Hermione grumbled and got up. "Thor, repeat after me. Lumus."

"Lumos."

"No, it's more like loo-mos."

Ron groaned theatrically.

"Loo-mos," Thor repeated, fighting to keep a straight face.

"Good. Now watch how I move my wand." He followed the path it made in the air and copied it clumsily, getting a frown for his effort. "You can do better," he was told and was drilled through it until the young woman was satisfied that he had it down pat. "Say the spell and do the movement together now," he was instructed.

If it weren't for her no-nonsense attitude to the teaching he'd think that it was all a grand trick to make him look the fool. Loki would enjoy something like it he knew, or his brother would have before everything between them turned sour. "Lumos." While he did the spell exactly as described, nothing magical happened.

"Try again," he was encouraged.

Doing so accomplished nothing, nor did his flailing and saying the word do anything the ten subsequent tries. "I might not have magic," he concluded, having watched as their faces fell.

"Perhaps you only need to try more. None of us could do the spell at first either."

"Yeah, but only Neville took more than ten tries to fix a wand lighting charm."

"That's not helpful, Ron."

"Oh, sorry."

She sighed. "I thought magic was a property of the body. It's hereditary so it should be. But if it's connected to the soul... Harry's gone now. And we know that he has a part of Voldemort with him; that explains why he can speak parseltongue. It's a magical trait, and if it's attached to the soul, perhaps more magic is."

"This will piss off a lot of people," Ron commented happily, "I'd relish telling Malfoy that it isn't his pure blood that gave him magic." He made a face. "Though that would meant that his soul is magical and- no, I don't want to get into this discussion."

The witch nodded stiffly. "Maybe not relevant to our current problems, no. If you don't have magic, Thor, pretending to be Harry will be difficult."

"Aye," he nodded.

She lit up. "There's one possibility left: it might simply be that the wand isn't compatible. While most witches and wizards are able to use a wand not their own, it never works as well as one that is bonded to them. With you never having used might before that might be a hinderance too high to overcome. If we got you a wand of your own, then perhaps it would work."

"It is a fine thought, Lady Hermione."

She blushed. "Hermione's fine."

"As you wish," he nodded.

"We'll have to tell Dumbledore to let you go to Diagon- oh, no, I forgot!" Her face fell and she looked horrified with herself. "You-Know-Who's people took Ollivander, his shop has been closed all year. It was left in ruins."

Thor sighed. "Is there any other way to get a wand?"

Ron shook his head. "I don't know of any other wandmaker in England. Abroad there are some of course, but getting to them wouldn't be easy. The headmaster might be able to devise something if we ask, but I wouldn't get my hopes up."

"Then we must devise another solution that will allow people to think I'm Harry."

– Of the Same Scrap and Barley –

Harry screamed as he fell. The distraction the blasted God of Lies had wished for was delivered. As he fell he became visible and all three dozens of the beasts turned to watch him flail.

"Arresto Momentum!" he tried, but slowing down was a pipe dream. Gravity had a hold of him and forcing it to let go was out of the question, and he sped up. With determination pulled out from some hidden reserves, he resolved to use the fall as an attack. The speed and his durable body might work as a projectile. It would be messy, it would hurt, but it was the best he could do.

He fell like a meteor, crashing into one of the creatures, his fisted hand paving the way through the body of the one he'd fallen on. It roared in pain as it died and panic spread through the herd. He came up, spluttering, spitting out the innards of the creature and cursing that this had happened. On the positive side, the flesh of the creature had warmed him up.

The panic of the herd lasted only a moment, turning to violent rage. "Loki, you will pay for this!" he shouted towards the sky, certain that he could hear mocking laughter from the invisible trickster over the howl of the wind. He jumped and swayed, trying his hardest to stay on his feet. He couldn't fight these beasts with his bare hands, their hides were too tough. They were not humanoid, but in the small red eyes he saw uncanny intelligence and anger which told him not to underestimate them. Yet he luckily discovered that they were possible to trick.

They had no regard for each other in their anger and seemed to have little comprehension of their size. When he made them charge at him and jumped out of the way, they collided with each other, and got hurt and in turn angry at the individual responsible. They began to fight amongst each other and Harry seized the advantage. He jumped up on the back of one, moving on to the next as to not be thrown off. Making it to the edge of the group, he sent a stinging hex at the closest one. Grinning victoriously when the spell worked, he began to lead them away, drawing them from the opening where the pathway to earth was hidden. That he didn't appreciate Loki's plan or his execution of it didn't mean that he wouldn't follow through with it.

"That's right," he yelled, "follow me, you dumb beasts!" Insulting them didn't have any effect, or if it did, it was indistinguishable from the already present rage that perpetuated the group. He danced out of the way, running in the snow, farther and farther away, slipping and sliding.

"Now, what?" he asked himself. Distraction and bait, yes, it was working. Loki and Jane would be able to get through. That left him. He let out a strangled shout when he was hit by a large, clawed front paw and was sent into a deep drift of snow. Diving up he struggled to come up with a plan that would let him get inside the cave.

"Trusting him is the stupidest thing I've done in-" the stopped there. He'd done a lot of stupid things lately. That's what had brought him into this mess to begin with. The beasts were uninterested in giving him a moment for self contemplation. They moved towards him like a frozen tidal wave of angry intent. Sending more stinging hexes their way, some hitting, some not, he broke them up and created disarray. Moving through them, risking being trampled into pulp, he managed to get them fighting amongst each other again. Once they were sufficiently occupied he sneaked off and took the long way around to the entrance. Breathing a sigh of relief that it had worked, before he worried about the next step.

"Loki!" he called in a hiss and yelped as he was pulled up by his arm. He landed with a thud on the floor of the invisible ship and was absorbed by the illusion.

"Thought you'd been left behind?" Loki's smirking voice asked from the emptiness next to him.

"The thought had occurred to me. After you so kindly threw me out I thought that abandoning me could be the next step."

"The distraction worked."

"No thanks to you."

The ship started moving and Harry let his ire for the Asgardian go for the time being. They would have more words later. He felt his way to Jane and picked up her limp body. For all that he had gotten covered in blood and flesh, the better part of it had been left in the snow as he was flung about, and he thought that she'd rather he try to warm her up than worry about getting her dirty. She was icy cold, and he vowed to try another warming charm as soon as they were though the next pathway. He knew better than to try now; if it hadn't worked in the shelter from the wind that had been the glacial crevasse it wasn't going to work now and it must only be a moment longer until they arrived on earth.

They sped up and soon Harry could sense that they were no longer on Jotunheim. The vibe changed. It was an intangible thing, yet it was there. It smelled differently, more like dirt than ice. The transit wasn't nearly as jarring as the one between the home of the Dark Elves and the Frost Giants had been. It was a small mercy.

They arrived out of nowhere, in a forest of tall, narrow fir trees. Patches of snow were on the ground, but mostly the ground was bare, showing brown needles and green moss. The sun was shining from a clear blue sky. While the celestial orb stood low on the horizon, casting a pale orange sheen and creating long shadows, it also gave a little bit of warmth. Harry drew in a breath of fresh forest air and jumped into action.

"We have to make a fire," he said.

"She might not make it."

"Don't say that."

"If you don't want to face reality, then by all means don't let me wake you from your dream."

Loki let go of the illusion keeping them invisible and Harry could see how truly bad Jane looked. She was deathly pale, her complexion ashen and her lips a pale purple. He unwrapped his cape and the blanket, applying a warming charm directly to her dress and her jacket, relieved beyond words when they both took. A third one, though he felt that it was weaker, was placed on his cape and he swept it around her again.

"Are you just gonna watch?" he snapped at Loki.

"I don't care if she lives or dies," he said flippantly.

"Liar," the wizard accused.

"That hits home. God of Lies they call me, if you'll remember."

"Stop it for just a second; I've had it with you for today. I saw you sheltering her as that red stuff exploded, and you didn't fight with me about hurrying so that we could get her safe. Some part of you does care. Make yourself useful now."

"With that tone, I'm not inclined to assist."

He growled. "Gather firewood!" he shouted.

With an eye roll, Loki exited the ship and presumably went about doing as Harry had requested.

While Loki was gone, Harry rubbed at Jane's arms again, creating friction and warmth. He'd never learned how to help with hypothermia, but getting them warm again had to be the key, it just had to. She mustn't die. He was responsible for her in Thor's stead. She didn't deserve to die, he didn't want her to. The remembered feelings were making themselves known. Thinking of her without breath in her lungs was like imagining the same happening to Ron or Hermione: painful and hard to accept. "Please be well," he whispered at her prone form. "Please."

End Chapter Four – On Thin Ice

AN 23rd December 2015

That was the longest chapter so far, I hope you enjoyed it!

What is your take on Loki? How icy cold is he? What is he playing at? What does he think of Harry? Will Jane be okay? Can Thor do magic? What is Snape there to tell Dumbledore? A lot of questions. Do you have any ideas about the answers?

I will be back with one more chapter this year. Don't miss it =)

For now, Merry Christmas! Have a great week!